


Affirmation

by duckiesandlemons



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Also I really wanted to write this for a while so BONUS, Boyfriend jacket, Contest Entry, M/M, experimental writing style, introspective piece, kind oooof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckiesandlemons/pseuds/duckiesandlemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaito is the shore and the ocean all at once--he is the grounding force that Kouta can hold on to when he's thrown away into a tempest.  Solidarity, strength, affirmation.</p><p>(Written for Kisaragi-Gentarou's Golden Week Tokusatsu Giveaway Challenge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affirmation

**Author's Note:**

> Fic written for Kisaragi-Gentarou's Golden Week Giveaway Challenge! It's also something I've been meaning to write a while, so double bonus for me~! Experimental writing style, very stream of consciousness. Or something like that. On that note, the full chorus that the lyrics I took belong to fit the entire relationship dynamic between these two, in my opinion. Whenever the chance arises, check the song out!
> 
> Also purple prosey as hell I'm sorry--

_In the waves I’ve lost every trace of you  
Where are you?_

_\--Woodkid, “I love you”_

It is an affirmation of something, Kouta supposes.

He supposes, and he guesses, and he kind of hopes that it’s not. He kind of hopes that this is not an affirmation, and that this is not a simple reassurance.  Kouta hopes that the beat, beat, beat of the heart in his chest is mirrored in the beat, beat, beat of Kaito’s own rhythm. 

Kouta has a lot of hopes, he has a lot dreams.

They would call him an idealist.

Idealism, idolization, a want—need versus want, he’s not sure anymore.  He’s never sure anymore, not with Inves and Helheim and Yggdrasil and—

He’s overthinking.

He is overthinking and Kaito is still asleep next to him in this awkwardly too big bed in this awkwardly empty house of Kaito’s.  So Kouta tries to distract himself and think of something else, something that’s not trying to reaffirm, confirm, find a solid foot hold or whatever.  He looks around Kaito’s room, sparse and different from the clutter of Kouta’s own.  A closet, a dresser, a desk area with a chair that looks like it’s not seen much use, and a glass sliding door that leads out to a balcony. 

Surprisingly fancy.

Then again Kaito’s dad, from what Mai had once told him and from the glimpses of Kaito’s past the other man spat out during his heated moments, once had been in good money.  Maybe he climbed back up in it?  That makes sense.  That’s something Kouta can figure out in this giant mess that has happened since he picked up the belt.  Since Yuuya—

A shift draws his attention back to Kaito and Kouta watches.  Watches the steady rise and fall of Kaito’s bare chest, the curve of the sheets over his shoulder.  A gentle slope, up and over, and Kouta reaches over to trace it only to stop himself.  Reaffirmation, he’s looking for it, he’s searching, he told himself he’d stop that.  He’d stop overthinking, that’s why he started looking at everything save Kaito. 

He’s in too deep.

Too, too deep, he’s lost, he’s drowning.

He’s drowning in waves and the shore is too far away, he has no solid grip everyone and everything is changing.  It is too much of a constant.

There is no ebb and tide.

There is no high and low.

Kouta can only really rely on that which he knows has been the same.  A constant—a single minded entity.

Kouta’s kind of envious.  Not kind of, maybe really—really, really envious of Kaito’s single minded determination.  He pulls his knees up and rests his arms on them, looks back out the sliding door to the hazy city line of Zawame.  Kaito is the kind of determined with a reckless pursuit.  Kaito is the kind of determined where no matter how tedious things became he’d still forge on.  Kouta is the kind of determined where he wants to do what’s best, knows he’s doing the right thing, but worries.  Worries about tiny things, big things, worries too much—

“Kazuraba, you’re too loud,” Kouta imagines Kaito saying and he manages to ease his thoughts out.

A little more relaxed, a little more calm, and that need for confirmation not as strong.

Need, need versus want, it’s all back again. 

He thinks to last night, to the harsh press of Kaito’s lips, the fingernails digging into Kouta’s hips, and how Kaito almost practically folded him in half—Kouta’s eyes flick around to find where they discarded clothes.  His hoodie on the ground in front of the dresser, Kaito’s pants kicked haphazardly to the foot of the bed, and his own pants were probably ditched near the door.  They didn't really think last night, too focused in the feel of skin to skin and Kouta desperately clutching on to what he could.

Don’t think about it, something else.

Something else, something else—Kouta’s eyes land on Kaito’s jacket, draped over the top of the dresser.  Left there already, when Kaito had come home before Kouta came over, and Kouta eases himself out of the bed.  Heedless of nudity, of the fact that Kaito shifts again, and that he’d probably get an ear full when Kaito wakes up Kouta picks the jacket up.  He rubs his thumb over the coarse material, over the buttons, and then pulls it on.

Slowly, one sleeve at a time, until he’s standing there in just the jacket. 

Kaito keeps no mirrors in his room.  Keeps nothing to see his own reflection; Kouta wonders why.

He kind of wants to see what he looks like, kind of.

Yet the jacket is a bit loose on him, slightly tight in the shoulders—Kaito’s shoulders are smaller than the airs he give off suggest—but the cuffs slip a bit over his fingertips.  Putting on the jacket is a bad idea, Kouta realizes a bit too late.  It’s a bad idea because suddenly he can’t keep the thoughts out of his mind.  The way Micchi’s been acting lately, Yggdrasil’s looming presence, all this change in his life.  Change hurts, change always hurts, it is necessary, these things he knows but he’s lost.

So, so lost.

He’s swept away in this current, in this ocean of malignance and distrust.  This entry into adult hood that he didn’t really want, that he thought he would be prepared for but in the face of truth he’s scared and confused.  Nervous, too nervous, and he slowly falls to his knees, fingers gripping his arms white-knuckle tight.  His nails catch on the fabric and he tries to use it as a grounding force, tries to take deep breaths—

He’s in too deep.

Drowning, struggling, and he tries to bite back that strangled sob of useless agitation.  There’s nothing to hold on to anymore, absolutely nothing.  Micchi is of the mind to keep it to themselves, to do nothing, say nothing, and Mai—

He can’t tell Mai.

Kouta’s lost at sea, lost, so lost.  His sister would only be able to say things he already knows, things that he should know and should follow, but he can only go so far.  His shoulders shake, and there’s a lump in his throat, and he should be feeling better after last night.  Should at least not be thinking about it so hard.

“Kazuraba,” the voice drags him bodily away, barely reaching stuffed ears and racing mind.

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you doing?” it’s so to the point, and so simple, so very much Kaito, that Kouta gives off a shaky laugh.  He tries to play it normal, tries to act like he hadn’t been a hair’s breadth away from a breakdown on Kaito’s bedroom floor wearing Kaito’s jacket.

“Nothing, not much just…you have tiny shoulders you know that?”

Kouta peeks over his shoulder when he hears the exasperated huff from Kaito.  The other rider is sitting up in bed, hair disheveled and looking absolutely ridiculous, and the Zawame dawn that quietly creeps up along Kaito’s body adds a sort of atmosphere and mood Kouta’s finding hard to appreciate.

“I’m not sure I want to know what kind of ideas go on in your head.”  Kaito eases himself out of bed and Kouta follows the lines of his body.  Solid, lean, barely any curves there.  Kaito is a product of his desire, single minded and head strong determination.  Kouta gets up, tries to keep his shaking to a minimum.

Tries to hide it, much like the secrets he’s keeping from others.

Tries but fails because Kaito knows.  Seems to know, probably, what with the look he’s giving Kouta.  Kouta who just stands there meek and looking down, arms still crossed.  Closed, reserved, fingers still digging into his arms—it’s not doing much to help convince Kaito he’s fine.

A beat, pause.

Ten seconds.

“This is the reason you’re still so hung up on things.”

Fifteen seconds, grab, pull.

“Reason?  No reason, you’re just too narcissistic.”

Childish come back, but he’s staring up at Kaito, chest to chest. 

“Kazuraba Kouta—“

Kouta closes his eyes, doesn’t want to look.  His arms fall to his side, Kaito’s hand on his face and stroking his cheek.

“Yeah?”

“You think far too much for simple yes or no questions.”

And Kaito’s lips are on his, and Kouta is pushed back by waves.  Strong, powerful, overwhelming, but he finds himself not afraid.  He doesn't find himself shaken, disturbed, instead at a strange ease.  Even as the dresser edge digs into his back, as Kaito runs a hand along the skin from Kouta’s hip down the back of his thigh, he feels strangely relaxed.

The waves are tumultuous, breath taking, and Kouta’s sigh turns into a gasp as Kaito presses in closer.  Let’s skin whisper across skin, steals all thought processes from Kouta’s brain, and there’s the slide, slide, slide of lips down his neck.  Down his chest, over his heart, a brief pause, and then continuing on down.  Kouta tries not to think, but it’s hard.

Hard when he’s already started these ocean parallels, when he already thinks he’s drowning, and then he realizes.  Realizes why he needs the affirmation, the reassurance, why it’s Kaito he seeks out.  Kaito, a never changing presence.  Solid, firm, a grounding point for Kouta to grab, to hold on to.  Affirmation, strength, duty—Kaito is there.

Kouta disguises his relieved sob into a wet moan as Kaito writes wicked notes on his skin with his tongue. 

Kaito, Kouta realizes, is the shore.

Kaito is the shore and the ocean all at once--he is the grounding force that Kouta can hold on to when he's thrown away into a tempest.  Solidarity, strength, affirmation.

Relief, love—Kouta will never tell of love to Kaito’s face outright, though.

Kouta’s heartbeat hammers in his chest and he slumps back when Kaito comes back up, presses sloppy kisses to the corner of his mouth, runs hands up his chest and over his shoulders to ease the jacket off. 

“You should wear this again,” an idle murmur, but one to make Kouta laugh.

“Never thought you to be into this.”

“Shut up.”

And Kouta happily does when Kaito leans in for another kiss.

 


End file.
